


Know Thyself

by Aves_Pruritus



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Afterlife, Angst, Astral World themes, Best library fantasies, Brooding, Confused Desmond is confused, Discovery, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Light-Hearted, Spiritual, Understanding one's life, because AC3 needs a happier ending, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-01-15 09:31:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 15,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1300060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aves_Pruritus/pseuds/Aves_Pruritus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the pedestal sucks the life out of him, Desmond Miles awakens in a realm both far and close to the one he was in before. </p><p>Questioning the events of his life, he meets five people who talk some clarity into him. Before he finds true understanding of his worth. </p><p>(Post AC 3, slightly in line with AC 4)</p><p>(UPDATE JUNE 28, 2016: Adding the other chapters. The fic is a chapter and an epilogue away from being complete on FF.net!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**"ENOUGH!"**

He'd heard all he needed to hear. And he knew what to do...

_"You must not do this."_

If he didn't act now, all their hard work would've been fruitless...

"Whatever Juno's planning - however horrible it might be today - we'll find a way to stop it. But the alternative, what you want - there's no hope in it!"

_"If you free her - you'll be destroyed."_

Many would suffer... He wouldn't let that be...

_"It will happen in an instant. There will be no pain."_

_"You mustn't!"_

Otherwise, the alternative would be too cruel...

"It's done, Minerva. The decision's made."

He had faith in humanity. They can fight back. Will fight back...

_"Then the consequences of this mistake are yours to live - and die - with."_

She faded out of view. Only the four - scratch that, five - of them remained...

"You need to go. All of you. Get as far away from here as you can."

"Come with us. We'll find a another way."

He dismissed it. Without hesitation...

"There isn't time."

"Son..."

That tone both comforted and hurt him. But it was too late...

"You know it's true. It's already started. I need to do this now. So go! GO!"

Waited until they all fled the area, then he faced the pedestal.

Palms open, arms stretched out. Then, the sphere in his grasp.

A moment of seizure and drainage. It blinded his senses until...

Blankness enveloped his being.

He was gone.


	2. Reading Stories: The Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desmond meets The First of Five.

When he came to, the first thing that came to his mind was a realization of misplacement. He didn't feel any after shock of pain, though earlier he had felt like the life was being sucked out of him. And really, that was exactly what had happened. To think he had believed Juno when she said there wasn't going to be any pain, really. But why was he lacking any conflicted feeling? No anger, regret, sadness, anxiety, or grief. Or rather... what did he feel?

Oddly, he felt calm. Elevated. And most surreal of all, blissful.

With astonishingly little confusion, Desmond got up. And for the first time in a long while didn't feel any back pain like he had whenever he was laid down on the Animus for certain amounts of time. Quickly, too. His entire body felt inhumanly nible, even more than the Animus' programmed training had allowed him to feel. His manner of thinking less stressed and more content. But he was curious as to what was going on, so the young man took notice of his surroundings.

From the bookshelves that instantly greeted his bearings, he summed up that he was in a library. A very ... unique library.

Unlike most libraries (well, the few he had visited both in real life and during his Animus sessions), this one was not only massive. No matter what direction he looked, he couldn't find any back wall nor did it seem to have a ceiling, but it didn't look or feel like he was outside. The place was well-lit, but not lit by sunlight. But it did feel welcoming, inviting him to have a look around and borrow a book or two.

His eyes then went to the bookshelves. Hundreds upon hundreds of bookshelves all around the place. And as he walked about the aisles, it looked like they were lined up to create interesections, like the streets of a city. Lined up, but not stacked close to each other, giving enough space to allow passage through every collection of shelves, like an extra room. Perhaps they represented the different uses of those books, like the Dewey Decimal System. And in those bookshelves were books filling up every space, no one book looking like the other. One book was really a scroll, another looked like it held old parchment than paper and, to his surpise, there were even electronic tablets in the bunch!

"What the heck is this place?", the first thing that came out of his mouth since waking up: a question. It slurred, but a question still. And as if on cue, he stopped as something came into view from the corner of his eye.

A figure appeared on the left aisle of the interesection, facing a bookshelf a few feet meters from where Desmond was. Surprise painted his face at seeing another person in the seemingly sparse library. He couldn't tell whether it was a man or a woman, for the person was wearing a kind of scholar's robe, the white glistening fabric reaching just above the ankles and the hood doming over the head. And the height and built was just about young adult in size. The person was enjoying one of the books - it looked like a paperback, the size of a Stephen King novel -, but then immediately putting back the book to reach for an old leather-bound one.

The young man couldn't make up his mind on whether to go up to the figure and ask questions or to stay clear of him or her, not exactly thinking of the person as a threat, but because he didn't want to disturb them from their book-skimming. He was getting more compelled to do the former, though. Slowly, he walked towards the person. Just as he was only a meter away...

"Ah. You finally found me, then."

Desmond froze. The voice was male, the accent faguely familiar. And judging from the tone, the man was expecting him. But it was only when the other turned around that he he was close to an answer.

The man gingerly pulled back the hood, revealing a cropped haircut and a well-defined jawline. His face underneath the hood was young but tired, semetic but not exotic-looking, with eyes that penetrated Desmond's soul with fond knowledge and appreciation.

Why did they have that penetration?

It took a moment for him to speak up. "Wait. How did you know I was ... Do I know you?", he replaced the first question he wanted to ask with another.

The expression the other man held was between amusement and sighing. Shaking his head, walking towards Desmond. His height was only slightly below his, but up close he could have a better look at the man's face. The other then said with some humour, "Really? After all your time playing time traveller in the Animus, you don't immediately recognize me?"

"W-wait." Desmond stammered out after getting over the slight shock. "How did you know about the Animus?" He demanded, but not with the usual anger he had before. The want to know was still there, as his volume spoke urgently. "Just...who are you?"

The quiet that came afterwards was unnerving. He felt like he had just disturbed the aura of the place with his brash inquiry. The other man, on the other hand, only stood still, like he was waiting for something. Then, with a snap of his fingers and an 'I got it!', he grabbed Desmond's left hand and placed the fingers near the top lip.

"W-W-What the-!"

Taken aback, Desmond tried to pull his hand back, but the stranger had a firm grasp on it, keeping it align his mouth, then spoke. "Just trace your finger from here and down." And firmer, he looked at the confused man's eyes and said, "Trust me."

The look he gave Desmond was authorizing, but much like that of a father. Trust...

Relunctantly, he moved an index finger over the lips until it settled at the bottom near the chin. The minute he removed the finger, though, a shining line started glowing from where his finger had roamed. When the light had diminished, the other man let go of his hand, took a step back and smiled. "Now, try to remember."

That one little line started it all. Because it wasn't a line. It was a scar. A blade scar, one he himself had and it all came back to him.

His first Animus sessions. The feel of the Levatine sun. The clashing of swords and hidden blades. The Assassin beaurue. The library that was no longer filled with books. And the old man, sitting on the chair with the Apple of Eden in his hand, waiting for death, his final work done.

Recognition finally showing itself, the other man's smile gleamed even more as Desmond uttered the name with such reassurance.

"Altair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I've made this to indicated the events after AC 3 and during the modern events in AC 4 (but nothing too invovled with AC 4, since I neither want to give away too much for everyone nor spoil myself.), so the In. As for where Desmond is, it's kind of an astral reality to that of the material (living) reality, which intersect each other, but the atral reality has no chronological bounds and is sujected to the preference of the soul and not the carnage intentions of the physical body (I really hope I can sum that up in later chapters, but oh well.)


	3. Interlude 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, in the Material World...

_The van was moving at a fast enough speed that they weren't skidging about the forest uncontrollably while driving awayfrom the Temple. The solar flare was going to happen any minute now and they had to cover as much distance as the van would suffice themwith._

_Shaun's iron grip on the steering wheel was whitneing his knuckles. Bloody hell, why? Why did this have to happen like it did?_

_Yes, they hadsucceeded insolving the mystery of Those Who Came Before, that they were able to complete everything in time for the Temple to manipulate the impact of the flare to prevent an apocalypse. But at a price that they almost couldn't comprehend. Andnow, they were only three, running away because Desmond insisted upon it while he offered himself like a patient lamb for the slaughterhouse toJuno's twisted intentions._

_Bollocks, the whole mess of it._

_"The energy signal is getting more unstable!" He heard Rebecca exclaimfrantically. Fromthe corner of his eye, he could see that she was reading the current seismic frequencyof the Earth. "I'mnot sure just how far we need to be to avoid the impact-"_

_A sudden curve on the road forcedhim to make a hard left, causing Rebecca and Williamto bump hard onto the van's side. As they recovered, he gave a hurried apology as he steadied the vehicle into a straight path once again._

_Williamthen grabbed both of the seats to sit up. "We can calculate the frequencies later. Right now, we have tokeepour distance. There's no telling on the amount of aftershocks we'll be experiencing when it happens."_

_Nodding, the Englishman went back to my driving, but the current scenerythat welcomed us made me say, "Which I believe is sooner than we think." He indicated to the front view, then went to park the car near a clearing and hit the breaks. His attention went back to the others, who were just as mesmerized as he was by what was infront of them._

_Green lights, emitting frombeneath the ground and within the atmosphere. What was once darknighttime was now plundged intoa veridian radiance, the entire scene a close-up of the Northern lights right where they were parked. It was the most captivating display of energytheyhad witnessed since Desmond(as Ezio Auditore) had found the Grand Temple in the Vatican._

_"It works...", was all he couldsay. No witty comment of anysort about how Juno was actually true to her word: that the purpose of the Temple are functioning and Desmond's sacrifice wasn't wasted. For a minute, they all felt like a stormwas almost through its passing._

_But anyformof celebration or condolence were shovedout the door as a sudden rumbling came. The van startedrattling withthe earth's shaking, the movements sensedeven through the upholstry of the driver's seat. It must've been the result of the Temple working against the diabolic fury of the solar flare. It was causing the earth's seismic pattern togo haywire and more the anything, the aftershock is te fiercest at where they are, being closer to the Temple._

_As he looked up, William's expression was almost wild, but he hadenough instict to hold him and Rebecca by the shoulders and force themto bend over. "Everyone, brace yourselves!"_

_It might have onlybeen a moment or perhaps several minutes. They couldn't tell as the van shook but miraculously didn't topple over. As they sat there, trying to keeptheir bearings as the world's spasmcontinued, verylittle thought processed through Shaun's mind._

_But this was better than being roasted. That much he gave thought for._


	4. Reading Stories: Meeting The First

He couldn't believe it. Didn't know if he wanted to or should. Maybe this was all in his head, like when the others had plugged him into the Animus. But something was tugging deep inside to tell him that this was all happening, whether or not it was all inside his head. He felt so confirmed by that somehow.

The man whom he identified as Altair ibn La'Ahad took his realization in with an air of satisfaction. "Come." He let go of Desmond's hand and made to turn and walk along the aisle, indicating for him to follow. "Walk with me."

He obeyed and they made their way alongside the bookshelves. They kept going about, turning at every intersection they met and occasionally, Altair took a book or two from the shelves and carried them while leading Desmond.

After a few more paces, the latter's curiousity urged him to ask, "So... this library. It's huge." Huge didn't even begin to describe it. It was endless. "Is this like your library back in Maysaf?" It had only occured to it now, but he had remembered the stack of empty bookshelves, which were a disturbing difference actually to the abundancy of reading material the library they currently were in was.

Altair nodded at the statement. "Yes. This is a special place, and not just for me. And just like that library, this one is filled with invaluable knowledge." He was quickly skimming through one recently worn book before closing it and offering it to the American. "Go on. Have a look for yourself."

With surprisingly minimal hesitation, Desmond took the book. He and Altair had to stop their walk so he could get a good read from the item. First glancing at the expectant once-Master Assassin. "Alright.", he said flatly before opening the book.

A wave of exhilaration washed over him. As if on a synchonized fast forward mode, he was witnessing in his head all sorts of scenarios from point of view of a person he has never seen before, but oddly felt accostumed to. First was the birthing of the man, then the awkward coming of years, the marriage that would soon be withered by his recruitment. And lastly, the face of his enemy as they battled to the death, not realizing the bomb that would go off soon to innitiate their deaths.

It wasn't shown in that order but he was overwhelmed by all this information being transported into his mind, as clear as if he was there. But it was too much. Too detailed and close to home even though it he didn't want it to be. With a great amount of effort, he quickly closed the book.

He expected to be mentally exhausted or scarred by that experience, but only felt reflective. After clearing his mind for a moment, he turned questioningly at Altair. "What...what did I just saw...in this book?" The shock was still present, if his voice was any indicator to it. immediately he gave the book back to Altair, who only hummed in thought at his mental russ.

The other man took back the book and put it on the same shelf he had pulled it out from before turning back to Desmond and spoke, "The man who's life you had witnessed is a young soldier recruited to fight in the Vietnamese War. These books,", he raised what looked like an electronic tablet as a bizzare example, "all tell the stories of those who had ever lived for any amount of time in the material world. And like any reader interested in stories, I come back here many times to try to understand the enigmatic occurance called living." He paused to start walking again, urging Desmond to follow. "And that is why you were first dropped off here."

He followed again once more, intrigued by what the other man was saying, however fague it seemed. Thinking about his next question, he then carefilly said, "'First dropped off'? You mean this isn't my last destination?"

"No, it will not be your last." Altair dictated knowingly. "There is no limitation when it comes to figuring out one's self. Which is what I'm going to be helping you with."

That threw Desmond off. "Help me figure out _what?_ "

A robed arm shot up to tenderly hold onto his shoulder, squeezing comfortly as Altair spoke again. "Figure out why your life was what it was."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah. Editing the chapters one by o e on this site, too. Still working on the other updates. OTL


	5. Reading Stories: Acceptance and Renewal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, sorry about the lack of updates. I've been at FF updating the other fc and the original fic for this one. but yeah. Finally updating. Also working on "The Rise Of Madness" again, hope hopefully, I can fnish that and this.
> 
> Read on!

"What my life was…what?"

The statement given by the Levatine assassin confused him intensely. He had to let it sink in before noticing that Altair had gone over to another bookshelf nearby, getting more books or putting them back when he deemed them unnecessary. Face still twisted in figuring out what he meant, Desmond made his way towards him. He then turned to one of the shelves and tried to reach for a book, but he was hesitant, recalling the amount of emotions and information that surged furiously into his being after opening just one of those thing. Recoiling back his hand, he turned to back to his ancestor.

With a less confused tone -he hoped-, he asked, finally speaking the question with the right dictation, "I still don't understand. What did you  _mean_  when you said you're gonna help me figure out why my life was what it was?"

After a moment, the other man finally stopped his browsing and turned his attention back to him. As a reply, he gave Desmond such a look of empathy. Or rather, it was between empathy and what Desmond took as concern. When he did speak, Altair's voice was once again reassuring. "I know you have had a lifetime of trying to figure things out yourself, if not with the help of your team, Desmond. But now that you're here, you can finally answer the questions yourself." With some amusement, he added, "You may have relived my life for a few days, but now it is my turn to relate to your story."

He placed his hand on one of the books he had collected. It appeared to be a square disk, like the one Lucy took from Abstergo all those months ago. "Here. You don't have to hold it. Just give it your attention."

And Desmond did. Actually, he had a lingering feeling inside calling to him even before Altair lifted the disk up. Immediately, he knew what it was.

"That thing has  _my_  memories…doesn't it?" his voice was so calm, like he didn't even feel surprised at the realization. "Like we had with yours and Ezio's and Connor's. Oh, wait." He paused and tried to clarify. "You probably don't know them. Or rather, you might have expected Ezio, but Connor—"

A hand shot up to halt him from speaking more. With a nod, Altair said firmly, "No need to explain. As this library has revealed, they are, like me, ancestors of yours whose lives have helped you solve the problem with your would-be apocalypse. And, thanks to your sacrifice…" He stopped for awhile before giving the other man a sad smile. "I'm only sorry that you had to witness all of our tragic memories while ignoring your own agendas."

Desmond suddenly felt ashamed and lowered his head, though the place he was in made it seem less than he would feel in the material world. When he raised it again, his voice sounded remorse. "No, don't apologize. You all chose to give away your own freedom to protect everyone else's. I'm just ashamed I didn't choose to do the same until much later in my life."

"Ah, yes." The other man patted him on the shoulder again, his left hand still missing his ring finger. "Like me, you were also birthed into the Brotherhood, though both of your parents have outlived you." He sounded like that twisted bit of irony was more peculiarly amusing than devastatingly horrid.

His next reply was far more serious. "But again, unlike me, you didn't fully embrace your heritage. Don't think it shameful, Desmond. At least you had yearned for more than hidden blades and conspiracies. Unlike me… who had followed blindly until my disgrace." His hand squeezed abit, but it didn't seem like Altair showed much emotion from his recall. "You had the right idea, but not the right direction."

As the man let go of his shoulder, Desmond didn't know what to feel about that statement. True, he was fed up with the training facility that was once his home, but with the way he led his life after running away and before Abstergo had captured him, it was a very…mundane existence. Reluctantly, he replied, "I'll admit. Being a lowly bartender was a shitty way to pass the times, but I did enjoy whatever freedom I didn't have before and after that. But then I realized…"

He stopped. There was no need to extend his sentence any further. Altair knew it all as is, so he didn't have to. Blinking a little, he squinted his eyes. Was there something…. _different_  about the man at the moment?

The other man's smiled, once sympathetic, now turning into pride. "That in the end, it had to be you, even when it could've been another person. In the end, you chose to return." Altair continued for him. And he was right. He had  _chosen_  to go back to the Assassins, not because it was urgent for him, but because he, despite all of his complains,  _wanted_  to make a difference. And in the short time he had, he made the biggest difference in the entire history of the Assassins.

For some reason, their conversation has made him feel… fulfilled. Maybe he  _had_  figured something out while he was in the library, even if there were still questions about the in-between events, this part of him in-general had a closure.

Another blink and he finally realized what Altair was doing.

He was aging.

The once-simple white robes soon became more elaborate, the hems and stitches coming into detail until slowly, they had become his Mentor robes and the hood finally gaining that infamous beak. The robes he had last seen the man in the Animus. And his features, too, have changed. Graying hair and beard, scars fading, wrinkles highlighted but in the right places. He was once again the Grand Master he died as. And with one last chuckle, Altair ibn-La'Ahad handed him the disk. "Here."

Desmond eyed the disk with curiosity. He didn't need to ask what else it contained, but why was it given to him?

As if expecting the inquiry, the now-older Assassin answered. "Keep it. It is yours, after all. Besides, you can return it here after you finish your journey."

"You mean I can come back here?" He didn't want to sound hopeful, but the library still made him curious and he suddenly felt like Altair was biding him farewell, or more of a "see you later".

The library suddenly felt brighter and warmer than it had when he first came. Then, at his left, the bookshelves stacked there started moving or morphing on their own. When they had paused, Desmond found himself facing a portal. Or light beam. He couldn't surely say what it was, but it was beckoning to him, tugging at his mind to take a step inside or through it.

He turned back to Altair, the man's newest expression confirming what he had guessed. "Will you look at that?" His tone was so fatherly. All of a sudden, he didn't want to leave him, didn't want to leave this library. But at the same time, he knew he had to.

"I…have to go, don't I?" Almost apologetically, he mused to the Mentor and turning from him to the portal.

A sigh went out the other man as he nodded at his question. "Best to not keep the Second waiting, Miles. You still have other things to figure out. And yes, you can come back and visit us—"

"' _Us'_?"

"Yes,  _us_." Altair smirked at him with much merriment. "Do you think I'm the only one who likes reading stories?" And with a head bob, he motioned behind him.

As he turned his head, brows were raised as indeed, there were other people with them, though he didn't even notice their presence before. There was another person, a man, behind a desk that wasn't supposed to be there. And in front of that desk, a woman, also robbed, but more colorfully, stacking books in front of the desk, probably checking it out. It might have been the more cheerful and calm expressions both people wore, but he had a problem placing their names. Several others were also found around the library, as if they were already there when he first woke up.

A heartfelt laugh emitted from the other man as Desmond turned back his attention to him. Still shocked, he murmured, "Are those two…"

"Yes, they are. " Altair confirmed, still laughing. So Maria and Malik were also with him... And he may have seen Abbas and one of Altair's kids somewhere on a table. Who else?

He didn't have time to think of it as Altair started pushing him towards the portal. "Go on. We'll discuss this part of the astral world later. The Second awaits your arrival."

"Who is this Second…?"

He didn't finish his exclamation as his right foot made contact with the light beam. Then the entire energy formation built itself around him and, while he was still holding the disk, it consumed him.


	6. Interlude 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another interlude. Just keeping track of the "living world" while Desmond is...well, in his journey.

_It may have been only a few minutes, but the energy field definitely had a mass effect on the surroundings. Some of the trees in the forest were overturned –luckily, none had fallen on or near the van—, bits of the earth were crumbling over the nearby cliff and whatever amount of wildlife lived in these parts of the woods was enduring a panic frenzy all around. As for the van, well, it could have fared worse._

_They just sat there, still getting the aftershock out of their physiology. William was still making them bow, paranoid about any more of those ruptures that might emit after the event. Shaun could feel the grip of the older man's fingers on the tugged fabric of his vest. Hands still on the stirring wheel and head on his lap, he turned his gaze to Crane._

_The light of her tablet was illuminating her aggravated expression. Eyes open wide, staring at nothing but the fabric of her pants and mouth in a hard line, he could sense her anticipation. Then, as if sensing his gaze, she turned her eyes to him. Suddenly, her features softened, as if the presence of another worried face was enough to give her comfort from the situation. There she was. The Rebecca he knew to still be the optimist after all this time has returned._

_The amount of struggle he emitted to not smile at the thought was annoying._

_He could feel William's clutch on his vest loosen until he let go of either of them. Sighing, Shaun let go of the wheel as he straightened himself up, trying to loosen the gears in this body after bowing into such a tiring position._

_Then, with his usual tact, he broke the silence. "Well. Next to waiting to be rescued from Abstergo's facilities, that little rumble had to be the longest set of minutes in my life." A snort was heard from Crane and he only rolled his eyes._

_The raven-haired woman finally went back to her tablet, brows creasing as she checked the readings and reported, "It looks like the frequencies are calming down. Guess it's safe to say that the Earth is currently stabilizing itself." And with loud sigh, she stretched up her upper limbs before slouching on the back of her seat. "Apocalypse averted…wooh!"_

_He couldn't help but snort at her sudden burst of energy. "Rather cheery after surviving our first cataclysmic disaster, aren't you?"_

_But despite his sarcastic reply, he had to agree. They had avoided having the world enter the sun's second dose of fury since the first one destroyed most life on Earth a million or so years ago. Or was it only a few ten thousands? Despite all of his digging, Shaun still couldn't pinpoint an exact era that Those Who Came Before were last known before completely becoming extinct._

_A grunt got him out of his academic thinking. He turned to where it had come from and found that the older of the Miles was still bowing his head. From the sound of his restricted breathing, it seemed that William…_

… _was sobbing._

_Or was trying to prevent himself from emitting that he was sobbing. The first drips of tears fell off the man's hairy chin, dropping on the metal floor of the van as he stared at the little puddle absentmindedly. His shoulders were shuddering as he tried futilely to stop his emotions from showing too much. Then, when he spoke, William's voice was hoarse and desperate. "I still think we could've found another way…"_

" _Sir…" was all Hastings could reply with as he watched the older man slowly break down. As he snatched a look at Rebecca, it appeared that they both had the same worried looks. But neither could come up with any words to comfort the man, for they too had feelings of regret. They all wanted to save Desmond. Find another way to rebuke the solar flare and Juno's loophole. But at his insistence, they had fled. The guilt and devastation was still clinging to their chests._

_A heave came from the woman as she tried to cover her own sobs with her gloved hand. He himself merely shook his head, wanting to cry with them, but they needed a firm thinker in this time of grieving despite the anguish inside. With a hard look, he took off his glassed and folded them on his shirt, then closed his eyes as either hands went up to hold onto both Rebecca's and William's shoulders, rubbing gently in an attempt to comfort._

_And then, too weak from the happenings, he finally allowed his own watery eyes release._

 


	7. Rebuilding Confidence: The Plaza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desmond meets the Second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Altair is done. Also, this is as far as I'll update for now. I have to continue writing the next chapter updates.
> 
> Do enjoy the fic in the meantime. :V

Alright, where was he  _this_ time?

It didn't seem necessary in such a realm, but he had kept his eyes shut as he phased through the portal. Wherever he was at the moment, the feeling of the beam grew less. It still lingered in his body, but he surely felt that he was at another place from the Library. He took a risk and cracked open his eyes.

Perhaps he should not have been  _that_  taken aback, but he was. Desmond found himself facing a tall structure, experience making him deem it as a church tower. Eyes shooting upward, he immediately recognized it as the tower he had climbed as he relived Ezio Auditore de Firenze's youth.

Now, if that wasn't enough of a clue to who "the Second" was, then fuck it.

Curiosity beating him, he tore off his gaze and turned about to face the rest of the area. As he observed, it was a square community area. Same limestone (It was limestone, wasn't it?) pavement. Mediterranean shrubbery and trees peaking out every now and then. A few carts filled with leaves or hay loitered around. Lanterns hung around lighting the city with warm glows. Everything was as it was when he first saw it all in Ezio's Memory.

Well, except for one thing: the area lacked the busy and chatty bustle of the Florentine citizens.

It was between peaceful and eerie, but like the Library at first, not a soul aside from him could be witness from his current panoramic view. Weirdly, though, he felt that he wasn't alone.

Maybe it was the energy still inside him from going through the beam. Gently, he raised the disk that Altair had given him. How much of his life was recorded in this small piece of data he wasn't sure, but now he had to figure out his life. Or, at least, understand it more. He was about to pocket the thing when it started glowing. Eyes wide in surprised, he watched as the whole disk was basked in light until, like the portal, it disappeared.

"What. The. F—"

He shut up at the last word. That's it. He had had  _enough_  magical do-hickeys happening to him as is.

Scruffily, he marched about the plaza –Oh, look. He figured out the Italian word this time.— and scanned the area for whatever being was poking at him with the aura, going 'Look! I am here! You aren't alone, fine traveler!'

"Are you looking for something, young man?"

His senses became keen and alert. As he was about to check the empty stalls near the other entrance, a gruff but accentually charming voice beckoned to him. Collecting himself, he turned to the direction of the voice.

There was another man in the vicinity. He was seated on a bench at his left that was erected between two canopy trees. And as he neared the spot, Desmond would have found the man familiar, but was fooled slightly by his attire.

The aged man sitting on the bench with a basket of burgundy grapes on his lap was indeed Ezio, but he looked much older than his last memory of the Italian. His scars were far lighter than before and his hair was merely cropped down instead of pulled back. And the clothes he was wearing were far too peasant-like than the flamboyant and armored Assassin robes he donned during the Animus sessions.

But the way the man smiled at him was profoundly Auditore, no doubt about it. Bracing himself, he made his way towards the aged Italian and spoke up.

"I'm looking for a  _someone_ , not a  _something_. And that someone is you… Ezio Auditore."

When he finally stood in front of him, the older man looked up and, with a quirked smile, nodded and scuttled in his seat, offering him a space right next to him.

Desmond couldn't help but cough out sheepishly. "Umm… Thank you." He took the seat and tried his best not to look too shabby while doing it.

Wait. He was trying to say "Grazie". How did it end up with an English translation?

As if sensing his confusion, Ezio chuckled and offered him some of his grapes and said, "You're in the afterlife now, young man. Language barriers do not exist here. Now, take one."

After blinking a few times, Desmond started talking again. "Oh. Sorry. I'm still new to this "astral plains" thing. Altair said we could talk about it later… Or, will YOU be the one explain it further to me?" Talking about the other ancestor of his to Ezio felt unbelievably natural, like they were just talking about their other neighbor across the street. Except, well, they were centuries apart in the world of the living. Maybe death had broken those boundaries.

He took one of the grape and popped it into his mouth then started chewing. Perhaps being in the afterlife, he didn't expect it, but that grape was very juicy and sweet, like a small ball of instant wine. From the corner of his eye, he could see Ezio's pleased expression at his tasting of the grape before speaking with his usual bravado.

"Good, are they not? Their tastes," He indicated to the basket. "are based on the last vineyards I had tended before my death. And let me tell you." Another grape went into his mouth and amusingly continued. "This place had copied the  _exact_  taste, if not better."

Desmond earnestly nodded in agreement. As he swallowed, he tried to think up how to continue with this "Figuring stuff out" adventure he had just entered.

"So…", he began. " _You're_  gonna help me with figuring out the events of my life, right?" He indicated that he wanted another grape and took one after Ezio allowed it before continuing. "You are…The Second?"

The older man looked at him with a sideway glance. Then, with a renaissance feel, he smirked. Oh, the all-too-famous Ezio smirk. His head then turned so he could look straight into the American's eyes.

"If I weren't The Second, boy, then we wouldn't be eating my world-renowned grapes, now would we?" The older man teased as he took another grape.

Sitting on this bench with one of his ancestors and eating the finest of fruits in a plaza of such grandeur.

Maybe another heap of mystery wasn't so bad, then.


	8. Just Making Sure of: Peace Of Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Second leads him on to more answers, perhaps a thrill.

Sighing, he slouched, looking up to the Florentine sky (assuming that they were sort-of in Florence.). It was just like that first Ezio session: promising of a good life.

"Tell me something."

"Why do you think I'm here, boy?" Ezio replied with a chuckle. Desmond thought he probably sounded repetitive and stupid with his first question, but he didn't intend to. The younger man lowered his head to look back to the old master.

There he eyed the worry and laughter lines, the lip scar he got from when Vieri de' Pazzi threw a rock at him. The old man once again popped another plump grape into his mouth and he himself followed suit.

After consuming the fruit, he turned back to the Italian to inquire. "The Assassin-Templar conflict. The corruptedness of the governments. The First Civilization. And, well...half of you family sabotaged and taken out. You didn't expect all of it, right?"

_Of course he didn't, numb skull._ He insulted himself, but he had to ask.

Because...well..

Looking back to the cerulean sky, his lips pursed with reflection. The image of the other man and his older brother speaking of the good life was shamefully ironic.

Because if anything, it didn't go into a 'good life'.

Ezio's reply didn't sound as offended or taken aback as he might have thought."Truth be told, I was already questioning reality before Uberto snitched my father out, causing me to get 'acquainted' with the Brotherhood. But even before that, I had my suspicions of my father...in a good way." He corrected idly.

"Those times during super. He skipped them occasionally, probably thinking that I only saw him disappear into more banking paperwork, but my, um, 'gift'," the man described the Eagle Vision with sarcasm, "had allowed me to see his hidden chambers. Sadly, it took me longer than I would like to admit to understand his place... _our_ place... in this conflict."

A hint of sadness and regret lingered. "Things had turned ugly right after that day. So much has happened within my lifespan. Some gaining, some losing. Before Sofia, I almost never got to relax. And here I am." And as if to emphasize, he stood up and he stretched out his arms, allowing Desmond to view his full attire in all its mundane glory.

Once more, Desmond couldn't get himself to get over those embroided and armored robes he was so used to seeing the Master Assassin in.

Again, he sighed before asking again. "But How did you become so...sure...of your decision? You were suddenly hurled into a whole new world beyond your teenage comprehensions. I know it took you long before you agreed to be part of the Brotherhood, but that meant you deliberately gave your life away to their cause. And then, it became your cause."

All the questions he was meaning to ask the man since those months in the Animus came out of the confines of his subconscious. (And when did his vocabulary-wait, when did he start _using_ that word- become so affluent?) So much he wanted to know about the man, even when he had already lived his life. He wanted to know the inbetweens. And the afters.

He shook his head, trying to clear away those questions for layer when he realized that the other man was no longer sitting next to him.

"Oh, boy. More astral weirdness..." Slowly standing up, Desmond's gaze tore around the plaza to find the Mentor. How did that aged man get up and about without him noticing?

Deciding to look about the place, he searched even the haystacks and stalls around the square, but no sight of Ezio still. Finally giving up, he went back to the bench they were sitting. Then he stopped, the sight of the grape basket the other had on the bench top causing him to speculate.

"Ezio? Hey. Ezio!" He started calling out to the air. "The hell did you get at, old man?"

And no, he didn't feel _any_ shame upon insulting the man's age.

Just then, something dropped next to his feet. Questioningly looking down, Desmond saw that it was a pair of gloves. His hands, upon reaching down for them, felt metal and leather mixed on the apparel. Then the Italian's trademark snickering could be heard from the direction the gloves had dropped from.

And indeed, he could see the older man perched up on a window sill of the tower from the basillica what's name he dare not bother to remember. Ezio was lingering in his hanging and bobbed his head to urge Desmond to follow suit.

"Well, don't keep me waiting, child! Hurry and catch up with me, eh?", He taunted at the American before quickly making his way up the separate tower.

Indignantly, Desmond put on the gloves before sprinted over the base of the tower. The he picked out his route before grabbing on hold the first ledge. He began following Auditore up the tower.

Said man started speaking back to him as they climbed. "Humans are naturally curious beings, Desmond. That is why I was suspicious of my father. And though I had tried to brush off Uncle Mario's invite to the Brotherhood and the true origins of the conflict, I yearned for answers while taking action to eliminate those who wish me not only death, but darkness." He paused before jumping up, then quickly grabbing hold on an empty brick hole and pulling himself up higher.

"But even when I had some answers, they only gave me more questions. And a further cause to search for them. After Minerva, after paving the way for the Assassins to spread, and even after all the pain and confusion the came I still persisted. It then led me to Constantinople before I found out more about Altair. And you know what?"

Desmond paused in his climbing. It wasn't surprising that he wasn't even tired (not even surprised with Ezio's own ascension), but he kept noticing that the tower...didn't seem right. He could have _sworn_ that he and the other man would have reached the bells right now, but it was like they were still a long way from it.

It took him awhile before realizing that he hadn't replied to Ezio yet, then said, "What do I know?" As he clutched at another ledge, his kind started racing. Of the whole time he had spent reliving the lives of his ancestors, he could probably second guess what they would do in most situations and yet...what would they have thought while they were in those situations, then?

The other man stopped, gazing down on him before saying in the most relieving tone, "For the first time in years, at that moment, I was sure." He waited for Desmond to be right at his side before continuing. "I then knew that there were those who would continue my work. Knew that my time to relax was nigh. And I knew, then and there, that what I did made a difference. Not just for the Auditores. Not just for the Brotherhood. And just for this world. And only then and there, did I let myself be with Sofia, our children, and our vineyards. And even when I thought myself to no longer want to linger. Having been less than active with the conflict, other people, like Shao Jun, reconfirmed to me that there will still be others, not only willing but capable and understanding, to continue on, even when certain hings seem to contradict it."

Sometime between that speech, Ezio looked past him with a warm spark in his eyes. Seeing Desmond's raised brow, the man nodded downward and the younger man followed suit.

He tried to keep his hold firm despite his initiate shock at discovering that the once-empty plaza was now packed with music, lights, and people. Although there were stalls and performers, it didn't look like the usual business of the plaza. But it felt like everyone was having a good time, like the most pleasant festival Desmond could ever witness. And he felt that all who were involved and had known Ezio, whether they were Assassin or Templar, civilian or ruler, young or old, they were all in that plaza.

"Will you look at that...", he repeated Altair's reaction to the portal appearing infront of them earlier before gazing to Ezio, but just as he had turned back, the older man had started climbing again.

As he continued to follow, Desmond had realized something: no matter what the age or situation, Ezio Auditore still had that aura that meant that he was looking forward to the good life, as if Federico was waiting for them both at the top of the tower-

A person could be seen leaning over to look down upon them. Could it be...

"Hey, you two! Hurry up, or you'll miss the big finale!" Federico Auditore, with his spirited mirth, called over to them. Ezio by now had gotten to the top and greeted his ironically younger-looking older brother with an embrace.

Finally, Desmond's gloved hands grasped at the cinnamon roof tiles of the tower. As he started hauling himself up, the two Italians firmly took hold of both his arms to pull him up with ease. When he got his balance, he was still abit shocked at how little the effort he needed was.

"Now, let me ask _you_ something, Desmond?", he heard Ezio speak once more. With a hint of taunting.

The American blinked slightly at that question. He had been the one asking since he got to this place so it took awhile to let it sink in before nodding to allow the inquiry.

With an air of bravado, the Italian leaned over and pulled him close so that they were at eye level with each ither. Pausing, he asked with hinting intimidation, "Do you have faith?"

All the other did at Desmond's confused expression was give out a heart-filled laugh before turning him around to face the plaza. In the midst of the bright landscape, he spotted a haystack at the base of the tower.

And maybe now, he wouldn't mind kicking the Mentore for that pun.

But as he looked back, the older man merely shook his head. "That wasn't what I meant, but this is how you'll be going to The Third."

He rolled his eyes at that. Great, mire enumerated people. They were sending him off again _just_ when more people (or souls, he supposed?) started showing up.

"Do I have faith in what?", he asked back in exasperation and urgency. So many cryptic messages. Like he hadn't had enough of those while he was still alive?

Somewhat in reply, both Ezio and Federico motioned for the plank that suddenly had appeared before them. Still keeping his eyes on them, Desmond walked over near the edge of the wood, too familiarized with the Leap of Faith to bother being afraid of their current height.

Finally, with a warm and genuine smile, Ezio firmly asked, "Do you have faith in humanity?"

Now _that_ bit made him think for abit. As his mind went to those chronological years with the Assassin team he had, of Lucy, Shaun, Rebecca, and his father. Then it went to all those sessions, witnessing how man had gone throw triumph and downfall in each other's hands as well as to nature itself, but still kept on despite all of the struggle and obstacles.

The human race was an interesting bunch, really.

Positioning himself, he looked down again before turning his head, firmly nodding to the two brothers.

"I never lost it. Thank you, Ezio."

And with that, he leaped forward, the exhilierating feeling still present even when there was no air to pass through his face, hearing the cheers of the people in the square, bidding him a fair and fruitful journey.

Then flipping on his back before he made contact with the hay, the plaza slowly became vague and distant from his senses as the energy beam once again took him into another moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for not updating the fic on this site for any who still want to read this. QeQ) I was dwelling into other video games and college to update it here.
> 
> But on FF.net, this fic is one chapter away from completion, so I might as well add the other chaptets as well.
> 
> Again, apologies. OTL


	9. Interlude 3

_Adjusting the red and black cap on her head, Rebecca made her way to meet up with Shaun at a nearby coffee shop. She looked around, admiring the beautiful display that was of Montreal during the autumn season. Occasionally, a few of the withered leaves would be on her path and she relished in the crunchy sound they made as her feet stepped on them across the pavement._

_Taking note of all the traffic and street signs in Québécois French, the Assassin couldn't help but marvel at the already bustling hassle of Downtown Montreal. Workers and businessmen alike braving the cold but bright weather this early in the morning._

_It wasn't like the metropolitan cities back in America, but she didn't mind that at all._

_Crossing the pedestrian lane at the next intersection, the computer expert could see the destined coffee shop, a small but cozy-looking place filled with many hip and curious customers, just at the other side of the street she was currently at. Making another crossing, Rebecca then made for the Pikolo Espresso Bar's simplified but inviting glass door. The subtle air conditioning prickling her skin after she had entered, he eyes scanned the couches, tables and side bars until she spotted a familiar face. A sly twitch of her lips came as she went over to table._

_Shaun was sitting there, not looking very interested in his surroundings as he sipped from the styrofoam cup, head down while he sat straightly. He merely gave a slight lift of his cap as acknowledged greeting when Rebecca leaned on the table with one hand._

_"Waiting up on me, Shaun?" she teased, eyeing the other coffee cup and a plate of croissants, one half-eaten, near the opposite chair. "Oh, you thought ahead: I was gonna ask you to treat me to a joe. And you even bought me food. How intuitive of you!" In mock flattery, she took the empty chair and leaned over to rest her elbows on the spruce table._

_Shaun merely responded with a 'Hmph', placing his cup on the table as he leaned back on his own cushioned seat, answering with a drawl, "Figured you'd be hungry the minute you see the café. Go on. Take a bite. The croissants are as delightful as the feel of the place."_

_It was almost welcoming, so yeah. She was gonna have a generous bite of the croissant, and she did, her teeth sinking in to bite off and chew. It was amazing, the crust mixing so well with the softer bit of the bread as the chocolate inside mingled with her taste buds._

_Damn, she was going to owe Shaun a heap after this._

_Rebecca could even make out the brief smirk on his face as he_ _took out a laptop from a bag that was under the table at his feet. As the laptop lit up his face, her friend looked over the screen before addressing her again._

_"Better fill up before we get to "work". And try to practice your French better." He chided, eyes going about the local Québécois clientage around him, probably staring at all the English they were conversing on._

_In response, Rebecca swallowed the last bit of her croissant before truing out the words to her tongue. "Oui oui, mon capitaine!" She just snorted at the disgruntled look Shaun gave her as she went and took a sip from her own coffee. Espresso. He guessed her right._

_Then, all the humor set aside as she spoke with a more cautious tone, "So, run by me again what we're gonna do at 'work'. Any more word from John?"_

_It had been almost a year since their trip to the Grand Temple. A year after Desmond was left there. What happened to his body on their return after the solar flare was unknown until Gavin told them about Abstergo's "Sample 17 Project"._

_To answer her question, Shaun spoke discreetly, "Well, according to him, they're using samples to try out in their latest project. As for the source of those samples, he's not exactly revealing too much. It's either that, or he's hiding something from us. If not us, from any security cams around the facility." He paused, lips resting on his index finger as he hummed, then added. "But it's there. It all leads up to_ that _."_

Just a few more days, Desmond. We'll find you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me while playing AC 4: Dammit, why do the Templars have such cool offices? And in effin' beautiful Montreal...


	10. Just Making Sure Of: The Lounge Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desmond finds himself in a palce of warmth, welcome...and surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you comment, nope. It's not what you'll expect. XD

The last fragments of cheering immediately went out of earshot as he had flopped on his back to land on the hay stack. But he didn't feel the itchiness of the hay, only the energy that had first transported him to the square and to Ezio.

It was growing on him, whether or not he welcomed the feeling.

At one point, he blinked. When he opened his eyes, he wasn't falling against the air anymore (Not that there WAS any air in this place. It wasn't necessary.). In fact, he was sitting down, arms resting on a sleek, black table. A quick look down confirmed that his bottom was on some kind of soft but simplified ottoman chair, a short but soft back supporting him. His ears were greeted by soft chattering from all around

And he may have been mistaken, but a normal amount of curiosity and confusion had actually returned to him as his peripheral view took in his current location.

Wherever this was in the realm, the place looked pretty...cozy, if not for a better word for it. It looked like some kind of lobby; A warm incandescent light engulfing the scene, giving whatever color anything here was a yellowish tint. Tables and chairs similar to the ones he was currently occupying arranged around the room(?) not too orderly, but had enough distance from each other to give some personal space for the occupants. And the people around where so relaxed and casual. He didn't know any of them, but he felt like they were immersed in their conversations with each other, some involving other people from a different table involved.

It was dumb of him, but an image of three known people entered his mind, but he shook it off.

Even though at the back of his mind, he started calling the place 'kind of corny', he didn't mind _being_ there. Still, he'd have liked to know why he was there. And who this 'Third' person was going to be.

Desmond took a minute to filter the recent events so far. He was in some kind of afterlife, having met two of his ancestors as 'guides' who had either cleared up or gave him pointers in coping with his current situation. So, maybe Connor would be his Third person? Not that he was sure it was an ancestral thing happening right now, but he had some hunches.

Absent-mindedly, his hands went to his lap as those thoughts went through his mind when his right hand felt something in his pant thigh and he tried not to look too surprised. It was square and thin. Could it be..

Digging into his pocket, he instantly knew as he fished out the black disk container Altair gave him. How the heck did it even _get_ in there? And why did it magically disappear in the first place?

The grunt he emitted was neither aggravated nor please, just slightly surprised that the disk came back to him somehow. He could figure out his life bit by bit but not figure out how a tiny piece of plastic just keeps popping up on him? He rotated the disk in his hands, tempted to open it and take out what he'd guess would be a CD. But with the way his life had gone, he wasn't thrilled by the idea enough and was about to pocket it again-

"I see you got the disk back."

The male voice behind him made him jump enough to drop the disk. Fuck, why was everyone doing that to him?!

And the voice behind him only made his aggravation more profound. Because he knew that voice.

_How the HELL did that bastard even get here?_

He may not have felt afraid, but Desmond was still paranoid, looking down slowly as the person's hand reached down to pick up the disk. He tried his hardest not to clench his hands into fists in defence as he turned himself around in his seat.

And sure enough, it was him.

Light skin, stuck-up dirt-blond hair and goatee, yellow hoodie under a black jacket, smug look on his motherfucking face. The last time he saw those on a person, he was aiming a gun at him at the Italian Abstergo facility.

As if basking in his confusion, Cross gave put a hafl-hearted cackle. "What? Surprised to see me in Paradise, kiddo?"


	11. Just Making Aure Of: Meeting The Third

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A deceased adversary in the Realms? But then again, there is no adversary after death. Just souls.

**_No shit I'm surprised!_ **

His hands quickly went and grabbed the table behind his for leverage, urging his body to not be tensed as Daniel Cross stood next to him, holding the disk that had his memories.

_How did this place let a mole like him into the afterlife?_

As if hearing his thoughts (or this astral place was allowing them to be known), the other went to lean his arm on the table he was gripping for dear life and looked down at him. But it wasn't some scrutinizing gaze. Rather, it was plain curious. As if... As if he's looking _fondly_ at him.

"How'd a jerk like you get here Cross? Come to finish me off, even though we're both already _dead_?", he spat, sneering the that face.

To another surprise for him, Cross's features _actually softened_ as he spoke in bizarrely kinder tone, "Hey, I thought you'd have remembered that the Daniel Cross that tried to kill you and take you in wasn't really me. It was the chip talking." A deep sigh came out, eyes closed, as if in regret while his hand offered the disk back to him.

Desmond's gripped relaxed and his hands one again flew back to his lap, taking in all this. Suddenly, his mind raced That's right: right at the last minute, Cross was about to shoot him point blank when he started spazzing out, dropping his gun and accusing himself before running away from him.

All he could reply to that was to grab the disk with as little spite as he could surpress. The line on his lips became less strained as he also spoke out, "So, you actually didn't want to kill me then?"

This time, it was Cross' turn to look conflicted.

"I've tried to fight it, really I did. But it wasn't until you showed up in Manhattan that the old and _real_ me started digging his way out. So, when you killed me... It was really _me_. So... Thanks." He shrugged it off, taking back his arm and standing straight again, hands in his pocket.

he truly didn't know what to say to that. All those times, he had thought of the man as a traitor to a Cause he himself had taken for granted at first, but now here they were, chatting like they weren't just at each other's throats a few days ago...

It WAS only a few days from now, wasn't it?

"Okay... But what now?" He asked the ex-double agent. "Are you here to clear some disillusioned part of my life, too? " Exasperatedly, he jested, "Kind of ironic that you, of all people, ended up as my Third person, right?"

Suddenly, the room was filled with the other's roared-out laughter. Desmond looked confusingly and sourly as his question was what humored the other.

"Well, what? Are you my Third person or _NOT_?" He persisted his inquiry And waited as the laughter quited down to small spurts before Cross got his hold on himself again.

He was smiling. And like those smug or murderous smirks he'd give off before. This was a genuine expression. Cross then spoke again, "I'm actually a 'Traveler', like you are right now. I just finished talking to my Fourth person right over there." His index finger pointed another table behind his shoulder.

As Desmond craned bis head out of curiosity, he saw at a nearby table a woman, probably as old as Daniel was when they were alive, wearing a white jacket over a blue top. Her auburn hair swayed as she leaned back to wave meekly at him.

"Hannah's an Assassin, you know. Actually the reason I was able to stay sane enough before Abstergo picked me up. " He could hear Cross state as he himself looked on. So _she's_ the one that tried to help this nutjob. Well, seems like she forgave him for, well, killing her and all.

"Well," Cross continued as a hand patted Desmond's shoulder, the latter flinching from the touch out of awkwardness. "I have to go. I wanna wrap this up before I can try to catch up with Hannah again. Also, your Third person is here."

"They are?" He suddenly snapped out of it, turning about and shrugging off Cross's hand before looking at the other seat. First off, Daniel Cross had completely vanished. Not even a decent 'good-bye' was given and he left him. Second, he could sense another person present, sitting across from him on the other Ottoman seat.

Completely turning about to meet his Third, he wasn't prepared for the woman seating across him. As if he didn't just stab and kill her back in Rome.

"Good day, Desmond. Ready for another session?", Lucy Stillman greeted him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! I'll be the first to admit that I didn't write Daniel Cross in this chapter all that accurately. Some bits don't sound cortect in line with the comic book origins story. 
> 
> I'll get to editing that whrn I've done the final chapter, but if anyone wants to help on this one (or maybe beta some others), PM me! 


	12. Let Bygones Be Bygones: Uncomfortable Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guilt, reminiscence, confusion yearning. That's what 'Stillman' means for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, shippers. How y'all doin'?
> 
> Still not tagging their ship or the characters. Again, surprise for new readers. XD

She was there. Sitting across from him with a calm and friendly aura about her. If he weren't in this realm, he'd have activated his Eagle Vision, not only to see if she was either his ally or enemy, but also to clarify that she really  _was_ there with him!

His sudden motion standing up had knocked over his ottoman, but he gave little attention to it, all of his focus went to _her_.

It was as if they were back to when he was first being held at Abstergo's Italian facility. Same blond hair in a bun. Same white blouse and black skirt.

And remarkably, no stab wound. No blood stains. No look of anguish from her sudden death. Just Lucy.

The man could care less about the knocked over ottoman and his edging away from the table. For the first time since coming to this place, he felt the first truly human emotion that could register: devastation. And it washed over him like a tsunami as he kept his gaze at her.

He thought that he'd gotten over that after confronting Juno. Clutched fists, twitching eyes and a twisted knot in his chest weren't indicators that he had gotten over it fully, it seemed. Why, of all times, were all his emotions coming back  _now_?

"...but I was...", he gasped out between the tremors in his voice. "...I was the one who ended you."

The image of his body slowly making its way towards the woman, hidden blade jacked up to stab her, entered his mind, but the other showed no sign that his words affected her. Still wearing that lift in her lips, Lucy answered, "Yeah, we're going to get to that later. But maybe you should take a seat, Desmond."

It was after blinking out his shock that the words registered in his mind. Forcing himself to relax, Desmond bent over to straighten up the ottoman before scooting to take a seat again. He was looking at the table, not wanting to see her blue eyes again until he was _sure_ this realm wasn't shitting with him. Mimicking drawn-out breath out of impulse, he grunted, "I guess eventually, I'd have to face you again. And, well...maybe you being my "Third" isn't that surprising, but..."

He cut himself off and glanced at her. Lucy was shaking her head at him, making feel indignant, before she bluntly put, "You're wondering what a back-stabbing Templar plot twist like me is doing here, right?"

Desmond tried and failed to hide the flabbergasted face aroused by her reply. Yes, he found it peculiar that of all people in his life, Lucy was present among his 'guides', but then he remembered Daniel Cross earlier. Remembered something he said.

' _That wasn't the real me back there.'_

But before he could say something, the woman continued. "This place we're currently in, Desmond. It's not exactly what most people would call 'Heaven'. Also, even if it were, people like me... well, I'd look more appropriate in something similar to 'Purgatory'." Her nose wrinkled, bemused at the idea. Desmond couldn't help but mentally agree at that hypothesis while she lectured again. "Remember when Juno told you about the conscience being circuits and—"

"Wait. How did _you_ know about that?" He almost stood up again, but he held his position on the chair, settling instead to grasping the edge of the table before nodding. "Tch. Yeah. She said something about how it was a load of electrical circuits that it could be transferred." And in his case, the Precursor bitch chose _him_ to materialize her.

Lucy nodded affirmatively. "In a sense. The human conscience—or the _soul,_ to generalize it—is in itself a form of energy. And as simple physics suggest, energy can't be destroyed. It can only be reshaped into another form of energy." She then spread her arms at shoulder level, hands indicating much of the Lounge. "Hence why we—our souls, again pardon—are here. Taking in any of this, Des?" _  
_

He may be dead, but it still took him a few seconds to process all that. So technically, he, Lucy, and everyone else were forms of energy? And the energy all gather to _this_ place when they die? That explained why his ancestors and several ancient people were here, including those he _knew_ deserved the deepest fire pits of Hell. Not that this realm was either Heaven _or_ Hell...

"Okay... I'm going to pretend I got most of that." The Assassin grumbled out, a hand to his temple like pain had actually registered in his brain for once. It was their Animus sessions all over again, sans the impending deadline of the would-have-been Apocalypse. But the knot in his chest pushed him to ask, "Still. Why _you_? I mean," He couldn't find any amount of words that didn't sound like he was accusing her, so he scoffed. "After all you've been through at Abstergo. After all _we've_ been through in Italy... You were gonna stab us in the back."

Desmond finally looked back at her. The blonde woman's lips were formed in a hard line, summing him up from across the table. Then, her voice stern, she replied. "Yes, Desmond. I turned to the Templars in the end. Even before we met up with the others back at the Warehouse. I was already a reversed mole before then. But that wasn't just it, you know." It still didn't sound like it bothered her, but hell. She fooled them enough already.

His hands clasped together as he took in Stillman. Scrutinizing was the best to describe his tone. "No shit. I didn't want to believe Juno when she revealed your double alliance." Another pang of angst—though vague, it was there—made him take a moment before talking again. "But she showed me what would happen if I didn't comply. You'd give us all away, drag me back to their machines, give Vidic the Apple and launch that diabolical satellite. But guess what, Lucy." The gritting of his teeth wasn't felt, but his voice still had an edge. He opted to wait for her to speak instead.

She _knew_ what he was going to say. Knew what would happen if he didn't allow the blade to end her. Just like how _he_ knew what touching the pedestal would have caused for him.

It appeared that he was right. Leaning forward with her fingers tentatively around her chin, she finished for him. "Abstergo would've failed either way when the machine would work with the Apple. And the world would've combusted into oblivion" Slowly, her cerulean orbs looked up at his brown ones, tired than they were earlier. Her shoulders sagged as she said softy. "I know Desmond."

Again, why was the realm giving back his pain when he didn't want it? Desmond tried surprisingly hard to try and not yell out, looking at his tattooed arm with such focus, letting the wave wash over. "Do you know what that put me through, Lucy?"

His vision revealed a fair and dainty hand reaching over to him. He didn't try to retaliate nor did he reconsider it. But her words definitely reached him. "That's why I'm here, Des. I owe you my side of the story."


	13. Interlude 4

_I finished another Animus session. The pirate character I'm playing, Edward Kenway, found out about this Sage guy, Roberts, and told the fat merchant he made friends with that he could sell off this Observatory place and run off with a fortune. After capturing the Sage, he then went to free the guy again. (Like, wow. What a waste of my Animus time.) Unfortunately, his Templar buddies, who were onto his real identity, caught on and beat him to the Sage's cell. They kept asking for his real name and he said "Captain Pissoff"._

_I think I'm gonna call him that from now on, hehe._

_Could probably go on about the Sage and his escape with an African slave, but had to take a break from my session. When I logged out, I had to take a breather before the room stopped spiraling around me. My head finally cleared and the first thing I heard was Melanie's peppy voice. She came into view a second later, her tablet and smile at the ready as she spoke._

_"I just saw that you were logging out and thought I'd stop by to give you something. Little welcome gift." The last word was pitched before she indicated to my right, still talking. "We give awards to our employees who do top quality work."_

_On my once-empty shelf was a figurine of, who'd ya know, Edward Kenway. And the details on it, too! Could even make out the stubble on his chin. I turned back to Melanie, slightly gleeful._

_She continued, "They're nice to have since there's no official bonus scheme here. I already have about eleven on shelves. Oh!" Her hand went up to her earpiece with a 'Bonjour?'. After affirmatively speaking to the other line, she turned back to me."Well, looks like Olivier wants to meet with you! That's me."_

_As she started to walk off, I stood up and followed her out of my station as she started again, "It's on the top floor, so it shouldn't be hard to find. The rest of this building can be confusing to first timers," We made a turn around some plants. "So, we had the tools team whip out a great map application. Check your communicator! I added a weight point to Olivier's office. Shouldn't be hard to find!"_

_Tap sliding some buttons, I activated the map as we got to the elevator. She said something about Olivier being a nice guy. Seemed like one the first time I met him. If not rather playful._

_We parted at an elevator and Melanie wished me luck as the sliding doors closed behind it rose, a call popped up in my communicator, but I didn't answer it. Weird..._ _A male voice spoke out._

"Hello? Testing, testing. Is this thing working?" _A cough emitted before he continued._ "This is John, from I.T..We met earlier? I was calibrating your Animus?"

Yeah. I met your legs and your toolbox. _But it got weird after that..._

"I'm sort of the, um, scout, of this Abstergo Enterprise. In-charge of all the tech stuff? Do you have a minute-Oh. Ah, damn tracker says you're on your wait to Olivier's office." _A grunt of displeasure came before he continued._ "Ah, alright. I'll ping you when you're done. I have a favor to ask." _John discreetly said before tuning out. The elevator stopped and the doors slid off._

_What's that guy up to?_


	14. Let Bygones Be Bygones: Other Side Of The Coin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They share thoughts, apologies, and a tranquil moment to make sense of it all.

Another few moments of staring at that fair skin over his tanned and tattooed palette before he slowly looked back up to her. With all the confusion, angst and urge for reconciliation that suddenly started building up before, he faced her placid face.

"Tell me, then." He said this without a quiver in his voice. Lucy's first reply was a satisfied smile.

Suddenly, a blink later and the Lounge was disturbingly unoccupied, save for the two of them. The other "travelers" of "guides" were no longer present, their chatter sucked out. Only he, Lucy and the furniture they occupied were left of the room. Little shock was felt for by now, he was used to this Realm's surprises. Desmond braced himself for the other's story.

She slowly retracted her hands from his, placed neatly on what he would guess was her lap before speaking, "Like you, I was also raised away from most of captivity, deprived of a normal childhood and trained to be the Assassin I am...or was, pardon." She corrected herself before Desmond could nag out.

"But unlike you, I waited out my training until the Brotherhood and your dad assigned me to infiltrate Abstergo. I detached myself supposedly from the them, taking a college course with vigor, but then my mentors didn't really approve of my topic Said what I was researching was pseudo-science. But just look at how the Animus worked out so well. Pseudo-science. Tsk." A roll of the eyes before she continued. "After that, I just kept going back and forth, applying for other universities and trying to hold whatever job I could... Okay, not _those_ jobs, though." Her hands waved negatively in emphasis and Desmond took a second before he realized the implementation.

"No. I wasn't thinking that. I know you enough to not be that desperate." He immediately said to dismiss the notion, but he couldn't helps but feel that he actually knew very little of his friend-turned-traitor.

But he shook it off and asked, "You've already told me some of that, you know. I even know that Vidic contacted you because he saw your potential, and...", he paused because he wanted to say he couldn't blame Vidic, but he didn't want to patronize that bastard for anything. "So, what happened while you worked at Abstergo that we _didn't_ know? You said you meant to be assigned and go incognito there."

She nodded back. Then, as if sighing, the said, "At first it _was_ 'going undercover'. I collected as much information as I could and somehow passed it onto Bill." William's nickname came unnoticed as she added, "But then, my situation changed. Even after Vidic got his hold on me after dismissing my extermination, the more I worked there, the more I felt like I was really _doing_ something. Sure, the Assassins made it their secret call to protect people's free will, but Abstergo Industries did work publicly to _help_ people, even when it's usually a cover-up. Not only that, my studies were of meaningful use there. I...never felt so involved. And even after Clay..." She paused, a hard line forming on her lips and her hands clasped together.

Hmm. Apparently, Clay still held her guilt in place, despite her betrayal. But she was still hiding back on him, so Desmond interrupted. "Why? Wasn't your knowledge useful when you guys handled my Animus sessions? You were even careful around me."

Ahh, and the Animus shoved itself back into his head again.

The look Lucy gave him was heavy with exhaustion. "Yes, but I was only of use while we were investigating Ezio's memories. Besides, I think William was onto me the minute Vidic first found the Warehouse."

The woman looked up at the room, but then it morphed again. It reminded him partially of the Nexus, only less shimmering and less glyph-emblemished. When the morphing halted, they were now in what might have been the Warehouse. They were in the very room where he first met Rebecca and Shaun, all their equipment perfectly duplicated.

"Hmm..Call me corny, but this brings back old memories, huh Luc...Woah." As he looked back at her, Lucy herself had changed clothes, her white shirt and blue jeans back.

As much as he liked that look on her better (Her fashion, not whatever else he might come up with!), the change of scenery out of the blue was getting to him. "Is all this supposed to help me go through stuff or are you just doing this to make me regretful?" The tone shred, but he followed suit as she got up from her ottoman and walked away from the table, beckoning him to walk as well.

Shrugging at the statement, a small curve lifted from her mouth as Lucy continued. "We've all had enough guilt and regret in our lives, Desmond. And I don't need warping imagery to make that point." Making her way towards the ground floor, she added, "But you know what my point is?"

Her feet stopped near the first few boxes. And so did he, waiting for what else needed to be said. She summed him up, from foot to face, and her eyes stayed there.

"Even if you saw all of Clay's evidence and Minerva's visions, you didn't know this: I turned my back on you because I thought it was the right thing. I mean, Assassins and Templars, religious sectors of sorts, even common friends have been fighting each for what each of them thought was _right_. What was _best_. What was _proper_. " She closed her eyes, taking an unnecessary deep breath (Do people of this realm just do it out of habit?) and added, "I've been on both sides, Des. But in the end, I don't think I know what's rightfully best for anyone anymore."

This time, it was _his_ turn to purse his lips in deep thought. Somehow, he should have realized that much. He, Lucy, the Assassins and Templars, and everyone, really. They all made choices they though was the best, only to have the universe throw life at them. The e-mails he read on the computer back at Villa Auditore made him think of what might be if he didn't read them, but... One particular e-mail made by Lucy to Vidic made him think...

He said softly, barely above a whisper. "What's done is done now, I guess. As much as I wish some of it happened differently, we wouldn't have been the way we are. Still...It can't be helped that you, of all people, would do that. It's ike Minerva said: we spent millenia after millenia fighting the other team when neither of us saw the big picture." As sober as he could, he side-glanced at her. "But you saw through it, didn't you?"

Lucy raised her hands palms-up in reply. "Like I said, I've been on both ends of the battle. But what I can tell you is that I poured myself into my work om both sides." She chose some low-stacked boxes to hit on, patting the space next to her for Desmond to sit on.

Desmond couldn't help but raise a brow at the her gesture. It was so...effeminate. Not that Lucy was a tomboy, but...well... Whatever. He took a seat either way, surprised that they were this close. The only other times they were was when they entered through the sewers on the Villa.

And again, the Warehouse melted and they were in the Sanctuary once more. The boxes turned into rubble, piled up horizontally.

"The coin has two sides, Desmond. But it's a matter of realizing that they're on the same piece of metal." Lucy said softly, looking down. When Desmond's own eyes went down, he saw that her hand was still on the rock surface, close to his thigh.

Well, that escalated nicely. He'd expected a less casual moment, really.

Without moving his own hand, despite the slight finger flexing, he gazed at the statues of the Assassin legends, suddenly fatigued from all the remembering. "I knew it had to be done, but..." He started, hurt abandoned and timidly spoke. "I didn't like stabbing you, Luce."

Lucy emitted a snort before saying, "Not that I enjoyed the idea of you in a coma, but thank you."

He was too tired in soul that he couldn't feel the foreign warmth on his fingers, but it was there.


	15. Interlude 5

_**T** he ship was swivering dangerously to port*, causing any items that weren't stashed or nailed to the floor to roll about his bunk. The shouts of crewmen and the howling winds could be heard up on deck, but Gavin gave little heed to those. Unless it turned into a typhoon, the S.S. Altair II didn't need his hands. Those two hands weren't quite busy, but they didn't seem of use at the moment._

_His fingers roamed and traced around the worn-out leather jacket of the journal. It had been months now, but the image of poor Bill handing the book—his Codex, it seemed—to him with such lost and defeated eyes still tore at him, no matter how intensely he poked at the book. He had already opened and read some of its contents, but due to the dire state of the organization the world-round, he and his crew had little time to concentrate on what they knew William Miles wanted them to find. But what they had known from the Codex so far, they made use of._

_The middle-aged man closed his eyes and reminisced mournfully. Bill** was back in his thoughts again, the same look of worry and anxiety lining his friend's hard face as he looked at a framed photograph he held in his hand. Said photograph had the image of a young boy, almost identical if Bill were his age, sporting a small grin to the camera that had taken the photograph. Who would have thought that same boy's sacrificial death in adulthood would have caused so much pain not only for the Miles family, but for all those who saw hope for the Brotherhood through that young man?_

_Gavin forced himself to open his eyes once more, and more images of all his comrades, fallen or torn inside by the struggle, flooded his mind. Frustrated, he leaned his elbows on the desk and rested his tired face in his hands. Bill, the entire organization's de facto leader after The Mentor was bitterly assassinated by Daniel Cross, was hit too hard with regret and futility to concentrate fully on the current assignments given. But he decided that at one instant, he didn't give a shit about that anymore, and so he left leadership to Gavin with a letter concerning his departure. The letter was still in a file organizer stored in a drawer of his desk. He could sadly remember the words the devastated father had written to him:_

"I'm leaving, Gavin. This war has gone for long enough and I've had it. Desmond is dead. My life is shit. Use the Codex if needed, but I leave everything to you now."

I'm so sorry, Bill. If only we could've found a way, maybe none of this needed to happen..., _the man thought grimly, as though his friend was as good as dead._

_It was like the Osaka disaster all over again, when a Chinese mole for the Templars went and killed Kenichi Mochizuki, his mentor and friend. And now Bill was gone and isolated in self-imposed exile. It was up to Gavin to lead the remaining sectors of the organization, racing against time and the lack of influence to keep up the fight and hold together the worn out bonds of the surviving sectors. And if the previous mission of unearthing the Precursor site last December had torn at Bill, what more of himself as he attempted to regroup everyone?_

_Currently, the ship was sailing northwest of the Pacific en route toward the nearby Arctic Circle to escort the last surviving member of the Russian Brotherhood, a woman by the name Galina Voronina. Back at the Russian research facility months prior, the Assassins had suffered underfunding by the government-most likely due to Abstergo's threats-and everyone had become a test subject. Everyone. The overuse of their Animi had caused severe cases of the Bleeding Effect; if they didn't die from starvation and infections, then they were euthanized..._

_That was_ exactly _what Galina had forced herself to do to her own mother._

_Gavin frowned and slammed his hands harshly on the desk before pushing himself up, balancing carefully as the ship and its contents moved about. Grunting, he opened a drawer, grabbed the codex and stuffed it in before closing the things. Then, at the call of the captain's urgent instructions to his crew, he opened the door to his cabin and went out, yanking it shut behind him. Maybe the salty spray of the storm could rouse him from his worries. Shove reality back at his face._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Port is the maritime term for "left" based on the fact that most sailors dock their ships with the dock facing the left side of the vessel. (Believe it or not, I found out about this from watching Mr. Bean: The Animated series. /Snort)
> 
> **Bill is every modern Assassin ally's nickname for William Miles. (How "William" became "Bill" for the Americans, I have yet to figure out...) But some of you probably already know that...
> 
> ***These weren't the EXACT words William Miles wrote to Gavin with, but I think you all got the picture of how much Desmond's death messed his father up.


	16. Renewed Visionary: Mutual Pardon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is time to continue the journey. Desmond is sent off by his Third.

How long they had been in that sitting position, Desmond couldn't care less. At that moment, there were no mentions of Assassins or Templars. No further discussion about centuries worth of that backstage war. No more hurt exclamations of lost time. They just sat there, the energy of their souls informing that yes, they were there.

Some moments ago, Lucy had gently leaned her head on his arm, the Realm telling him that. And he knew there was still so much to discuss. Oh, he knew. But right now, he didn't pay heed to the questions bubbling in his mind. Because had it not led to any of it—the Doomsday deadline, Lucy's betrayal, Juno's manipulations—when they were alive, then maybe the two of them would have ended up in this position likewise.

Compared to all that had happened, he would have preferred that.

A conflicted sigh rose him from his comprehensions. Looking down at his arm, Lucy lifted her head out of his reach and she scooted away from him, her hand retreating back to support her as she leaned back slightly. The look she gave Desmond was...saddened? Relieved? Piteous? He couldn't say, but suddenly he wanted to go over and reassure her of something, which was exactly what his body had tried to do as he realized that he was already reaching out to Lucy. But the woman shook her head and gently pushed his hand away. She gave him a smile that tore at him.

"Everything alright, Luce?" he asked with concern. But it felt as though concerned him more than it did her.

As an answer, the blonde woman turned her head to face their "surroundings." It took Desmond the same turn of view to realize that they were back in the Lounge Room, the bright yellow tints and the chattering of other 'travellers' and 'guides' slowly becoming imminent again. After a few seconds, she turned back to him and said cheerfully, "Everything is more than alright, Des. I let you know more about myself, helping you understand your own shortcomings... And your own worth as well." Her smile was less confusing, the aura confirmed by her next words: "I'm...satisfied. Slightly _happier_ , even."

Oh, right. Because she was one of those guides of his. He gave off a fond snicker at that. "Well, if you're happier, then that means you really wanted to see me." He paused, his own words sinking in deeper before he shook off the thought and continued. "Anywho, I'm glad I got to talk to you again. I just really wanted to clear things up. Doomsday didn't give me enough time to really get over everything."

He took in the view again and saw that the boxes they were sitting on were now two ottomans once more, and the table had appeared in front of them again. His eyes went back to Lucy, who leaned forward on the table as she looked back to him. As she spoke, her voice sounded matter-of-factly. "That's the beauty of this place: you can catch up with old friends you thought you would never see again. I'm speaking for the both of us."

That last bit she said made Desmond think... No. Or maybe she does... Out of the blue, a strange feeling of something passing came to him. Like he...Like he had to go.

"No... No, there's still so much I have to ask you. To...Tell you, and—Aw, shit," The man spurted out, his slur murmured as he felt the familiar glow of a portal or beam near him. It called out to him, asking him to stand up, which he did, and come to it like a mom to a toddler in a playground.

He refused to look at whatever mode of 'transcending' it may be and looked earnestly at Lucy. "I want to stay here. Just for a bit longer." Desmond thought he sounded like a beggar, but he didn't care. All he cared for was that Lucy Stillman, all angst and confusion banished, was once again facing him.

Then, for some reason, she clicked her tongue a few times as she leaned her head in one of her hands and chided, "Really, Desmond? I just heard from you minutes ago that this Realm could let you visit Altaïr ibn-L'Ahd and Ezio Auditore again. Don't you get it?" Her next words were between spurs. "It means this won't be the last 'session' you'll have with me.  _Ever_."

The last word had such weight in it, that Desmond paused to think. Sessions with Lucy for an eternity, with no Animus fumbling with his brain? That sounded great!

Now he felt really stupid for forgetting his own words on that, but he still didn't want to leave. He tried to relax himself, looking at Lucy as though it were a finality rather than a "see you later" that he was going for. "Alright. I guess I have to finish this shinbag I started on. But..." His voice trailed off, unsure of the rest he wanted to say.

Lucy eyed him tentatively. "But _what_  Desmond?" She pressured positively before adding, "Come on, man! This is the 'afterlife' and all. Spit it out!"

Well, that was encouraging. With the feel of the portal near him, Desmond finally spoke of what was on his mind. "Back in Italy, when were at the Auditore Villa, Erudito—well, at least I think it was them—sent me the password to your e-mail and..." He paused, feeling ashamed for having hacked into her account, but he got to the point. "You said in one message to my dad about 'for whatever feelings you may or may not have' had for me. What... What did you _really_ mean by that?"

He hadn't told _anyone_ about this, not even Clay's A.I. back in Animus Island. But now that Lucy was here, sending him off, it was now or never to find out.

Lucy sat still, staring him in the face for several moments before making a move as she stood up from her ottoman, her full height close to Desmond's. After a long pause, she finally smiled, so warmly that he could have sworn the other souls in this place felt it as well, and shocked him as she wrapped her arms around his torso. He went wide eyed at this, quick to put his hands on her elbows out of astonishment. That aura he kept feeling was even more intense now!

All his attention went to Lucy as the Lounge Room began to fade away from his awareness as she finally spoke her answer. "Well, I'm going to give you a clue on that." Everything was a blur, the warm aura of the energy beam once again taking him whole and off to the next guide. But he did remember Lucy raising her face to him and... The energy was coming from her, bouncing off the woman to him because... He felt it on her lips.

Lucy Stillman had just kissed him to the next realm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there, shippers. I hope you all didn't lose it when the chapter ended. XD
> 
> Also, I've considered doing spin-off ficlets with this afterlife theme concerning other Assassin's Creed characters who've passed away in the game's story. 
> 
> Lemme know if any of you would be interested in that.


End file.
